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In celebration of Dr. Seuss’ birthday this month…let’s go on a little sojourn into the ABC’s of BDSM and kink, shall we?

A is for Anal. Come on ladies, ass up. It’s no longer just for birthdays, anniversaries and make-up sex. I’ll Analyze it for you. It is Amazing. So get off of yours and get some…

B is for Bondage. Bound by ropes, cuffs or even words…there is no freedom like it. Hog-tied. Tied to the bed. Hands in front. Hands behind. Legs. Ankles. Hands tied to legs…to ankles…to the bed…I could go on…

C is for Control. The word itself stirs me…In my humble submissive opinion, it is best given away and Consensually coerced with the use of a strong Crop and well-positioned Clamps.

D is for Dominant. Delicious. Decisive. Direct and Demonstrative. All I can say, in Southern-speak is DAAYYUUMM. (Which is DAMN…for those of y’all who don’t speak the language)

E is for Exhibitionism. Could you would you in a boat? Could you would you in my throat? Could you would you in plain sight? Could you would you when it’s bright? It’s anytime. Anywhere. Exposed. Erotic. Exciting.

F is for Fetish. Fly your freak flag. All are welcome. Flags of a feather Freak together, with Floggers and all.

G is for Good Girl. These 2 words, when used together, dripping from the lips of my M, ignite a fire in my loins that burns like the flames of Hades. That’s HOT…Damn HOT.

H is for Hitachi Wand. You know you’re in for a fun night when the lights flicker and dim as it is switched on. Now, that’s some powerful shit…Hello and HOWDY, Mr. Hitachi.

I is for Insatiable. To quote the late-great-Barry White…”My darling..I can’t get enough of your love baby” (Sing it to yourself in his baritone and you’ll totally get it)

J is for Jesus. Not trying to be funny here…but I guarantee I say His name about 100 times in the midst of a kinky weekend. Just sayin’. As God is my witness…

K is for Know thyself. To set boundaries and establish limits, one must know who they are. K is also for Kink. And lots of it. Go big or go home.

L is for Little. It’s a wonderful place to be…sometimes stocked with glitter and rainbows…It can also stand for Love. Lust. Lustful. Lusting after…

M is for Masochism. The sheer pleasure from pain. Mouth-watering smacks on the ass that Melt. My Master is a master at this…More, please.

N is for Nipple clamps. These implements demand upright attention. And there is something so Naughty about having someone tug on your chain. State of Nirvana guaranteed…

O is for OH MY GOD…Orgasms. Preferably lots of them. Sometimes they are denied, but when allowed…they are Overwhelming. Oh..my.

P is for Paddle. Ah, the precise Pain from the use of a Proper Paddle. It’s Penetrating.

Q is for Quiche. In order to do all of this kinkery…one must eventually eat to keep one’s strength up. On a side note..real men do eat quiche and they also eat pussy for that matter. So eat the fucking quiche already. You already know what’s for dessert.

R is for Rope. Japanese silk. Jute. Nylon. Regardless of the material, it’s the technique that counts, Scout’s honor.

S is for Safe and Sane. It’s the Sadists out there you have to watch out for, you know. Sluts beware.

T is for Talk. “I am your dirty whore from way back, Daddy.” I fucking love to Talk dirty during hot, carnal sex. Although I don’t always get to say much when his cock is halfway down my Throat.

V is for Vibrators. Be mindful of the friendly Vibrator packaged as a personal massager…it’s certain to Violate you in ways unfathomable…such Vigor.

W is for Wet. Here it is used in a sentence. Whips and Wartenburg Wheels make me Wet. Weally…Weally…WET.

X is for, you guessed it…X-RATED. Once again…my humble and submissive opinion. Handle your business in the bedroom (or wherever it may be for the Exhibitionists) and act like you are making an XXX rated movie. Crank it up a notch whether or not the camera’s rolling. Or whether or not you know it’s there….

Y is for Yours. It is about belonging to your One. It should be said frequently. It’s a powerful statement. Practice with me, “I am YOURS.” Say it loud. Say it proud. You know who You are.

Z is for Zen. We, subbies out there refer to this as “subspace” which is a state achieved when you lose all conscious awareness and rely on the sublime feeling of pure ecstasy as you float in the moment. It is heaven on earth. ZEN….Namaste…hey…hey…hey

So I will close with this…

Down and dirty and downright flirty, this little post is meant to amuse those who use those

For their pleasure, with a feather or even paddled and likely straddled.

Some like it hot and some like it cold. Some want them young. And some want them old.

Some crave the pain while others like to restrain. Some prefer the view from the top as they wield their crop to their unsuspecting bottoms’ bottoms…

Waiting to hear that first “POP”

But it’s all in good fun, for now I must run. The wheel calls my name in decibels of pain.

Waiting for “good girl” to drip from his lips as I arch my back and hips and spread my thighs, I watch his eyes and I hear my sighs ring out into night’s sky…

Knowing this, Maestro obliged me by giving me tasks to complete each day. One task…to return my son’s tablet that stopped working and get a replacement. I had procrastinated doing this on my own, but when he asked me to do it, it was done in less than 24 hours. The next task was to get a new wastebasket for my oldest son’s room. Done. There were a few other things he asked me to complete during the week. All of them were finished in record time.

Then on Thursday night, the instructions took a more focused turn…

“When I get there tomorrow night, I want you completely clean shaven, wearing a dress, no panties. I do not want you to cook anything for me…we will order in. I do not want you to worry about cleaning everything in the house and making it look perfect. I want you well-rested, relaxed and ready for me. Do you understand?”

Boy did I understand…

Friday turned out to be an extremely hectic day. Lots to do at work and barely enough time to get it all done prior to his arrival. He texted me around 7:30 to let me know he was about 40 minutes away. I slipped on my black shift dress, with a cardigan…sans panties and began getting the kiddos to bed. And just like that…he was here.

The dinner I ordered arrived shortly after he did. We ate and caught up on the week’s events. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he really liked the dress. He asked if I did everything he asked me to do, and I told him I did.

He said, “That’s my good girl.” And his hand made its way up my dress.

He whispered in my ear, “I really like this dress on you. And I enjoyed dinner. But what I really want to know is…are you ready for your Master?”

When that man whispers in my ear, the world stops and I become a melted pool of a woman under his spell.

I gathered myself and said, “Yes, Sir. I am ready for my Master.”

He stroked my hair and said, “Good girl.” His grasp tightened and he pulled my hair back to look into my eyes. “Now, take the dress off.”

I quickly did as he asked. He instructed me assume position, to lie across his lap on the couch. He caressed the backs of my thighs and spread my legs to find his special spot. He was focused on bringing me to the edge, and bringing me there quickly…

And then he stopped. WHAT????

He said, “You’re not allowed to cum yet. Not until I tell you. Do you understand me?”

WHAT???

Before I knew it, my bottom lip began to protrude into a large pout.

“You have to ask permission before having an orgasm. I will decide when you are ready.”

He continued with his task of bringing me to the edge and stopping before I fell into abandon. I was putty in his experienced hands and he continued to torment me.

“Face me and stand on the couch.”

I was a bit puzzled? Stand on the couch?

“Come here. Stand in front of me and open your legs.”

And I did exactly as he said. And within moments, I felt my legs shaking from the ecstasy he administered. I asked him in a breathless whisper…

“Master, may I please…” and my voice drifted off, interrupted by the surge of pleasure coming from my stance on the couch.

“May you what?” he growled.

I could barely muster the words. It was so hard for me gather my thoughts long enough to formulate sentences.

“May I please cum?” I begged.

He pulled me down onto his lap and looked into my eyes, and simply said, “No.”

It was agonizing. I had been brought to the edge over and over and hadn’t been allowed to release. He could see my frustration. He could feel my agony.

“Do you know why I am doing this to you? Do you know why I won’t allow you to cum? Because I own you. This is part of your training. This is part of your submission to me. I will reward you when I feel you have had enough.”

The sound of his voice does something for me. But the sound of his voice when he commands me, pushes me closer to that edge of abandon.

“Now get move over there and open yourself wide for me.”

I complied…preparing myself…knowing I would not be allowed to release. And he was relentless in his pursuit of my edge. I was ready. So ready. He could sense how close I was.

He growled, “Who do you belong to?”

“You” I shouted.

His voice became more tender, as he clenched my hair. “That’s right. You are mine. Now cum for me.”

The command of his voice sent me into oblivion in a matter of nanoseconds.

And finally…I had my release. My screams of affirmation could be heard in a two-county radius.

Then he whispered in my ear….

“That’s my good girl.”

We went to bed early but neither of us got much sleep. He made it his mission to give me the immense pleasure I craved. I learned to ask his permission and our dance went on until the wee hours of the morning.

I served him.

He ravaged me.

I pleasured him more.

He used me for his pleasure.

And on..and on…

And this was within the first 12 hours of his arrival…I knew then it was going to be a GREAT weekend…and that I should relax and enjoy the ride.

Like this:

I’ve been doing quite a bit of soul searching lately. Understanding this new place. This new relationship.

The new person I am becoming.

Looking back at some of my earlier posts, I can see just how much I have grown. How I have embraced my true submissive nature. How I have evolved.

It was a really crazy ride in the beginning.

I did some outrageous things. (Going to an island to meet a pierced shrink)

I took some incredible risks. (Playing with sharp objects with a sadist)

And lucky for me, I not only came out of it unscathed (for the most part), I emerged from the depths of my search…a more enlightened person.
One post that I find particularly appropriate with the upcoming holiday is one that I wrote 5 months ago, to the day, how ironic! It was titled “These Are Not the Droids You’re Looking For”

Specifically, this was on my mind:

“And yet, I continue to look.

Why? Why do I waste my time? Why do I put myself through the turmoil?

Introspectively, I think it’s a bit of a distraction for me. Fun and entertaining.

And it’s because I think the blend exists. I would love to find the perfect man.

The one I can bring home to family for Christmas dinner…that later that evening, breaks off a limb from the Christmas tree and flogs me senseless. Ties me up with Christmas ribbon. Puts his new riding crop in my stocking.

Now that’s the gift that keeps on giving…sigh

Back to the story.”

I do believe that I have found what I described in that post. The blend. And I am thankful that I was able to find it in the midst of all of my craziness. (Makes me want to say, “Why yes, Virginia. There is a Santa Claus.”)

I am sure some of my readers are still a bit skeptical. Concerned that maybe my journey with Maestro is on “warp” speed ahead. The old me would have been weary and skeptical, also. Remember, I didn’t believe in love. I certainly didn’t think I would ever find it, especially expressed in the way, I needed it. But here I am…part of a “We” which is a wonderful place to be. (Sounds like a Hallmark card or a Dr Seuss tale, doesn’t it?)

And it’s real. It’s not a flighty thing…not infatuation. It is deep respect and adoration. Trust me when I tell you….I know the difference. It’s being able to share anything. Sharing everything. Letting go of secrets I’ve kept hidden from everyone. It’s acceptance. It’s understanding.

And it’s intensely hot. I crave Maestro and no one else on this planet (or in a galaxy far, far away) will ever do. I need him. Only him.

I knew what he wanted. I placed myself across his lap as if it were an altar.

Within minutes, he brought me over the edge…over the mountain…off the cliff and into the pools of sweet surrender. The passion we share is unlike anything I’ve experienced before.

What is so different, you ask?

It’s me. I am different. I am able to experience things I’ve never experienced before because for once in my life I can be myself. I can be my broken…flawed…sometimes neurotic…erotic…kinky…submissive self. I am free to be who I am. No facades. No masks. No changing my colors to blend in.

With Maestro, I can be ME. Which leads me to a complex, yet simply epiphany. I have never been myself in relationships. I have always been some version of me, but never gave anyone access to the real me.

This is true submission on an intensely deep level.

When we moved to the bedroom, we spooned. I love that. It’s a feeling of closeness that I have missed out in my life, never wanting to let anyone in.

He began to stroke my hair…my arm…my leg…my sweet spot. As he massaged the spot, he whispered in my ear. There was a primal tone in his voice, although he kept the volume at whisper level.

“Do you remember the text I sent you? The one you read while at the store?”

“Yes” I replied.

“Good, I am glad. Do you recall the phrase ‘tame and pale in comparison?”

“Of course I do, i read it over and over.”

He already had me under his spell, but he somehow raised the bar…increasing his dominion over me. His hand was around my throat. His body was firmly pressed against my back. He pulled me even closer.

“Do you know who you are?” he growled in his whisper to me.

I wondered if this was a rhetorical question, or if I was expected to answer. Before I could gather my thoughts, he spoke again.

Like this:

I am not speaking from a religious place, but rather a spiritual place.

So faith…what is it?

Using traditional religion as an example, isn’t faith defined as believing in something but having no tangible proof of its existence?

The skeptic in me always wants proof. Always wants to see the data.

Always wants to…

Over-analyze

Over-think

Question

Doubt

That is just my nature.

Optimists see the glass half-full. Pessimists see it half-empty. Realists see it as a half a glass of water.

And the skeptics…We say, “I don’t even know if that’s really water.”

So how does this skeptic learn to believe?

Maestro and I were talking last night and he brought up my post from yesterday, The Struggle. He said He sensed some anxiety from me after reading it. That maybe I was skeptical of this beautiful thing we have together.

His response to that skeptical line of thought….

To continue being Himself.

To continue to believe in what we have. To have faith in us.

I was taken in by this rationale.

He continued, “I know what we have. I have no doubt that you are the person I want to grow old with, that you are the one person for me. I know it. I believe in it. I am willing to put the effort into this. To not give up. To be whatever you need. To give you the space to process when you feel skeptical. I am not going anywhere. Do you know why? Because, I love you. But most importantly, I believe in us.”

I was silent. Overcome with emotion.

At that moment…at that very moment Maestro taught me the concept of faith. Through all of my years in Sunday school. All of my years of believing in God and Jesus and Santa Claus, I never fully understood what it meant to have faith.

Now I get it.

And here’s what I gleaned from our conversation.

I believe in us too.

And Maestro is teaching me, guiding me back on the path to spiritual enlightenment. He is bringing me to this new place in me that I am learning to call home.

For now, our home isn’t a tangible place. It’s our faith in who we are together.